Burning Up
by theoverlyenthusiasticwriter
Summary: Nesta Archeron is preparing for her sister's wedding when she meets an unlikely competitor. In a battle of fire versus fire, where steel melts and defenses crumble, will they burn each other to ash or burn the world down first? Modern AU, Nessian of course, light Feysand and Elucien.
1. Chapter 1

Nesta Archeron tucked her chin close to her collarbone as she walked down the avenue, the buzzing street lights above her giving the night an eerie feel. There was only four more blocks left until she got to the hotel where she'd be safe from the men who lurked the streets at this hour. She'd gone out nearly three hours ago, first for dinner, then to find a suitable wedding present for Feyre, who was to be married in a week. She still had yet to meet her sister's fiance, and wasn't exactly keen on going to their wedding, but she had promised both her sisters as children that she would attend their weddings if they invited her.

She was still surprised Feyre _had_ invited her.

She never found a good wedding present.

Nesta tried to make herself smaller when she heard a door open across the street and a car passed by, going far below the speed limit. She let out a breath when it moved on, seeming to stroll leisurely down the empty street.

It was when it circled again that she gripped the pistol tucked into a hidden pocket of her dress. A window rolled down, the car easing towards the sidewalk. She kept her eyes on the ground, stepping as close to the stone building beside her as she could.

There was a suggestive whistle, a man leaning out of the car, and a stupid, suggestive grin on his face. He reached out, slurring something incomprehensible, and Nesta skittered away.

The man cursed at her, telling whoever was driving to stop the car. The door opened a moment later.

She walked faster, wondering if she should be reaching for her gun.

But when she made to, there was a gentle hand on her wrist, stopping her. She froze, unable to look at the other male standing beside her as he turned them towards the other man. His deep voice easily filled the street. "You don't want to do that, buddy."

The drunk man blinked, seeming to sober up for a moment. He mumbled something then slid sloppily back into the car. It drove off a moment later.

Nesta yanked herself away from the stranger who still held her, ducking her head again and wondering if she'd only traded a drunk for something worse. "Thank you," she said, making to continue her walk.

But when he spoke, the grin she heard set her attention on fire. "Chin up, princess, you look like prey."

Her spine snapped straight.

 _He_ looked like predator.

She reached for her gun again. "I don't want trouble."

"But you'll make it if you need to, right?" he asked, stepping forward. She could see him fully now that he was positioned under the yellow streetlight. He was handsome-damnably so. His shoulder length hair was tied back into a bun haphazardly, eyes a molten metal hazel. His brows were dark and strong, jaw and cheekbones sharp and defined, the former dusted lightly in hair. His lips, she saw now, were full, parted in a grin full enough that she could see his canines looked more menacing than they should have. He wore a soil-brown, long-sleeved shirt that fit closely enough she could tell he didn't lack any manliness. His long legs were clad in dirty jeans, not ripped though. He boots, that might have once been black and shiny, were splattered in mud and dipped in age.

He reminded her of the earth, of windy days, stirring soil, and roaring fire. That- _that_ was what he was. Fire made flesh.

He offered her a hand. "My name is Cassian, and no, I do not plan to whisk you away into my torture chamber, however tempting it may be." He winked.

She didn't shake his hand. Didn't tell him her name.

His grin widened. "Good, at least you have a sense of danger. Where are you going?"

"None of your business," she said coldly, her voice low.

"If you don't tell me, I'll follow you anyway. You shouldn't be out this late alone and with no protection besides a gun with an empty magazine."

She blinked. How did he know that it was empty?

"Then what are you doing out?" she asked, snapping up wall after wall of defense between them, stepping back to make enough figurative space.

He ran his tongue over his teeth. "I'm just another one of the monsters that lurks in the night."

She snorted, turning back around and marching down the street. Cassian followed her almost doggedly. "What's your name?"

"Fire, step too close and you'll get burned," she recited, from a short story she had written in eighth grade.

"Well, Fire, let me walk you back, I'm heading that way anyway."

"Leave me alone," she hissed.

"No can do, sweetheart. You going to the Marriott?"

"Don't call me that."

"So you _are_ going to the Marriott."

She huffed, continuing her marching. Another car drove by, windows down, this one faster than the previous one. That was the only reason she allowed Cassian to follow her, the only reason she didn't deny her location.

When she got to the hotel, she turned back to him. "You may leave now."

"No 'thank you'? That's awfully cold for Fire." His cocky grin was still there, taunting enough that she was tempted to slap it right off.

"You may leave now," she repeated.

He clicked his tongue. "Not gonna happen, sweetheart, I'm staying here too."

She growled, shoving open the doors. Warm air greeted her pleasantly, the lobby welcoming and light in contrast to the street.

He spoke up again. "You should have told me you were this pretty out there, then I might have socked that guy in the jaw for you."

She ignored him, grabbing a mint from the counter and popping it into her mouth as she went to the elevators. When he went in the same one with her, she pushed herself into the opposite corner. "Get out. There are three other elevators."

"What? Scared I'll get naughty and make out with you against the wall?"

She didn't blush. Stared at him in a way that usually made her sisters leave the room.

"Damn," he murmured, lips twitching again, as if he thought her amusing. "What floor?"

The doors closed, Nesta debated darting for them. But that would make her look weak, make her look skittish and vulnerable.

"Four," she said through her teeth.

He pressed the button, then pressed one close to the top. So high, her stomach clenched at the thought of looking through a window up there.

"So, what are you out here for?" Cassian asked innocently.

"That's none of your business." She looked sharply at him as the doors opened again. She said as she strode passed, "I appreciate what you did, but never grace me with your presence again."

He whistled. "That's a lot of poison for a viper, be careful not to choke."

The doors closed behind her, cutting her off from him.

But through the night, his hooded hazel eyes haunted her every dream.


	2. Chapter 2

Nesta frowned at the box, silently hating Feyre. Her sister had insisted her and Elain wear bridesmaid dresses too, and while they weren't ugly, it wasn't exactly what she'd normally wear.

The dress was midnight blue, shirts draping to her knees. The top barely clung to her shoulders, with a plunging back and a front that wasn't much better. She was briefly glad for her breasts, if only so they'd hold it up.

She was looking for a shawl when she heard a knock on the door. When she opened it, Elain handed her the keys. Elain filled her dress out well, despite her small chest. The golden accents made her hair shimmer. "Mor, Amren, and Feyre will meet us there. Since the wedding's at six, they have time."

Nesta nodded, even if she hadn't a clue who Mor and Amren were, and grabbed a blue jacket-the only one she'd brought. She followed Elain down to the car, grateful she didn't run into Cassian or any other guests.

"I can't wait for you to meet Lucien," Elain said conversationally as Nesta pulled out of the parking lot. "Our one year anniversary is in a few weeks, maybe we could all get together for a party or something."

Nesta knew her sister was just trying to be polite. It was common knowledge that Nesta had distanced herself from her sisters ever since their mother had died. She still tried to talk to Elain sometimes, but she and Feyre could be at each others' throats in seconds. It didn't bode well for family dinners.

They pulled into a simple diner, making light conversation. The food and service were good, the restaurant itself quiet.

That is, until Feyre and her friends arrived.

Feyre was more beautiful than Nesta remembered, her hair like spun gold, curves filled out, skin clear. Her eyes were bright, the same shade as Nesta's but somehow… lighter. Happier.

Nesta stood with Elain to greet them, fisting her hands behind her back. There wasn't two, as she'd been expecting, only one. She blonde and ridiculously attractive, with eyes like soil and a smile like starlight. "Hello," she chirped, moving forward to embrace Elain, then, more hesitantly, Nesta. "I'm Mor," she said to Nesta, "I've heard so much about you."

She didn't much like the sound of that.

Nesta nodded curtly, sinking straight-back into the booth. Feyre sat beside her, smiling as is she were trying to be pleasant. Her and Mor ordered their food and they waited in polite conversation until it arrived.

"So," Elain said around a mouthful of pancakes, "what are the plans for the honeymoon?"

Feyre's cheeks pinked slightly. "We have a cabin picked out in the mountains with a private jet to get there."

The amount of money Feyre's husband-to-be had always slightly awed Nesta. Feyre had been able to fly her from across the world on said private jet. She had been briefly afraid to touch anything, until she read internet smut that was also on a jet. After that, she didn't really complain about the cleanliness.

Mor smirked. "Just don't break my cousin."

Feyre smirked back. "I make no guarantees."

Nesta looked between them, deciphering the relationship they had. Mor was Feyre's Maid of Honor, a title Nesta had thought would go to Elain. And, she was related to Feyre's fiance.

"Where's Amren?" Elain asked, having met them all months ago when she'd visited. Nesta had chosen to stay behind.

"Nobody wakes Amren up this early unless they have plans for suicide," Feyre quipped.

No one went to breakfast at a cheap diner on their wedding day, Nesta wanted to point out, but held her tongue. Instead, she returned to her meal and started on the corned beef hash. She felt Mor's eyes on her, reading and rereading, trying to gain access through the shield Nesta always kept up.

So she raised her attention and met that assessing stare with something equivalent of pure iron.

Mor grinned, then glanced at Feyre. "You still up for matchmaking?"

Elain sighed loudly. "I am _not_ getting together with Azriel."

"You would be so cute… ," Mor whined, leaning forward. "Anyway, I was thinking of a different brother."

Feyre eyed Nesta, to which Nesta started shaking her head. "Oh no, you promised not to meddle in my love life anymore."

"He's handsome," Mor provided.

"And kind," said Feyre.

"A good cook," Elain added.

"Strong."

"Loyal."

"Funny."

"A bit… ," Mor searched for the word.

"Jingoistic," Feyre finished with a smirk.

Mor and Elain giggled.

Nesta's face had grown gradually more angry. She would not be dating anyone soon, not after everything that happened with Thomas. Her youngest sister folded her fingers over the hand that Nesta had tightly wrapped around her fork. "Think of it as a wedding present to me: one date with him. Just one."

Nesta yanked her hand away. "No-"

"You'd be so perfect together."

"No-"

"But he's-"

"No, Feyre!"

The diner fell quiet and Nesta, half out of her seat, glared at her sister.

Feyre's eyes widened. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry."

Nesta knew she wasn't, not really. But she sat back down, spine as straight as a board. She wished she could cut Feyre down, wished her sister didn't have _everything-_ a husband, good friends, money-but Feyre was perfect. And perfect people didn't have flaws to poison without someone pitying the toxin.

Nesta's gloomy mood chased her all the way to the wedding.


	3. Chapter 3

Feyre was beautiful-there was no denying it. But her dress wasn't exactly… traditional.

Nesta tried to keep her face like stone when she saw her sister. Feyre's dress, instead of being white, was midnight blue, silver beads decorating the top, then fading to look like falling stars. It was sleeveless and the skirts fanned all the way to the floor. Her hair was up in a twist, accenting her sharp cheekbones and elegant face. Her perfectly done makeup brought out the sparkle in her blue-grey eyes, the fullness of her deep red painted lips.

She looked like a queen.

Nisha, who Nesta had determined was Rhysand's youngest sibling, squealed when she saw Feyre, sprinting forward and getting a face-full of Feyre's skirts when she tried to wrap her little arms around her.

Feyre laughed, full and rich, but her smile fell when Nesta approached.

"You're beautiful," Nesta said, even if Feyre had heard it probably a million times already.

Feyre's next smile was small, but it still meant something to Nesta. "Thank you."

There was a knock on the door to which Elain squealed slightly. "The groomsmen are here."

It took Nesta a split second to remember that Elain's boyfriend was one of said groomsmen. She'd only ever seen him in pictures, but recognized him instantly when she saw the fiery red hair as he stepped into the room. He was handsome enough, with bronze skin and a polite smile, but that wasn't what caught Nesta's attention.

Stretching down the side of his face was a wicked scar, cutting right through an eye with a golden iris, rather than a ruddy brown one to match the other. He kissed Elain lightly, an act Nesta silently resented. He introduced himself to Nesta, complimented Feyre, and tapped Nisha on the nose.

Following him came a man with white hair but dark skin and a short woman with unnerving silver eyes. The woman looked over Feyre, clicked her tongue, and pulled from her pocket a necklace of sapphires. Feyre turned to let her clasp it around her neck and thanked the small woman.

"That's Amren," Elain whispered to Nesta, "don't steal her jewelry. She'll eat you."

Something sparked in Nesta that made her instantly like this "Amren" woman.

The next person to come through the door was a man who Nesta quickly learned was the Azriel mentioned earlier. He stayed quiet and stoic, attention on Elain when it was quite clearly Feyre's wedding day.

"Where's-" Feyre began, but a loud and obnoxious voice cut her off.

"Rhysand is freaking out and-holy shit, Feyre-I can see why."

Nesta's eyes widened. She knew that voice.

"That was supposed to be a compliment, Feyre," Mor said as Cassian strolled into the room. "He still doesn't know how to compliment people properly."

Nesta wanted to shrink into the wall as the room steadily grew smaller. Cassian didn't see her till he embraced Feyre and caught her gaze over her sister's shoulder.

"By the gods," he said, pulling back. Feyre turned to see who he was talking to. He grinned like a wolf. "If it isn't the viper."

Feyre raised her brows. "Have you two met?"

"Never," Nesta said at the same time Cassian did, "I saved her life once or twice."

Confused looks all around the room were passed between them. Feyre pursed her lips, deciding an introduction couldn't hurt. "Cassian, this is Nesta, my oldest sister. Nesta, this is Cassian, Rhys's brother." Her next words came out slowly to Nesta's ears, lips moving dramatically as Mor and Elain both smiled. "You two will be paired for going down the aisle."

Sometimes, Nesta hated her sister.

Feyre smiled like she knew it too.

Cassian slung Nisha easily into his large arms, cooing and bouncing her. She giggled gleefully, trying to drape herself to the ground. Outside, the music started.

Feyre sucked in a sharp breath that everyone heard. It was time.

Elain peeked her head through the doors, then signaled to Lucien. Together, they strode gracefully down the isle, footsteps falling to the beat of the music. Next went Amren and the quiet boy she'd come in with.

When Nesta felt Cassian slip her arm though his, her spine filled with steel. "Nesta, Nesta, Nesta," he whispered into her ear. "You and I are going to be a story to remember."

They passed through the threshold and Nesta felt like she could crumple like a sheet of paper as she felt a hundred eyes upon her.

Somehow, Nesta made it to that alter. _For your sister,_ she thought silently. _For her family. For everything she gave._

And so Nesta made herself smile when Feyre walked down that aisle, when he husband wiped away a tear from his eye before anyone else could see. Because if there was anything Feyre Archeron deserved, and Nesta knew, it was happieness.


	4. Chapter 4

Nesta wanted to slump to the table and sleep for forever. The dinner following the ceremony had left her tired, barely maintaining conversation. Elain was chatting animatedly with Lucien and Mor, Feyre laughing at something Rhysand said, and Amren was examining the jewels of a particularly sparkly guest.

Nesta nearly jumped out of her seat when she felt something brush her leg. Confused, she peeked under the table cloth, holding in her gasp when she saw Cassian looking skeptically behind him. She yanked her foot back from beneath his hand and kicked him hard in the arm.

He grabbed her ankle, peering up at her at last. "Oh, I though you were Mor." He mumbled something about fancy shoes and looked back over his shoulder.

"What the hell are you doing?" Nesta whispered harshly, trying to kick him again, but he had a solid grip on her ankle, his callouses sending shivers up her leg.

"Az and I are hiding from Nisha."

"You're acting like a child."

"It's more fun than acting like an adult." He gave her a crooked grin.

"Let go of me," she hissed.

His thumb stroked the flesh on the inside of her joint, sending a jolt through her body. "But you're so soft." He leaned forward, pressing his lips to her bare knee.

She kicked him solidly in the middle of his chest, cursing. Then she stood abruptly from her chair, marching away before he could grab her again.

She found Nisha peeking under a different table, this one only containing a few confused looking people. "Psst," Nesta whispered. Nisha looked up with wide eyes that were a startling violet. Nesta pointed to her table. "One of them is over there."

Nisha nodded. "I know. He's not very good at this game."

Or she was particularly good at this game, Nesta thought, noting the way the girl scanned the curtains and the guests.

"I'm looking for Az," Nisha went on, her small voice suddenly serious, "he always wins, but I won't let him this time."

"Good luck," said Nesta as hopefully as she could. She went outside to where the grass was waiting for her, for there was no one really for her to talk to. Both of her sister's were chatting happily with their lovers and she was stuck here. All alone.

She debated just leaving. Feyre wouldn't care. Elain would, but she'd understand. There was nothing for Nesta in the place, among these people.

She was about to walk to her car when she heard the glass door open behind her.

"I'm sorry," Cassian said, "about under the table."

But Nesta was already striding away, spinning her keys on a finger.

He slid smoothly in front of her, blocking her path. "It's your sister's wedding, you're really leaving early?"

"Yes. Get out of my way."

"We're having a party tonight, after Feyre and Rhysand leave for their honeymoon. You should go."

"Absolutely not."

"You won't even consider-"

"I need you to understand something," Nesta said slowly. "I am here for my sister because she wanted me to and it is one of the kind things I can do for her. I am not here for you or any of your circle. After I leave here tomorrow, I never want to see any of you again. You especially. You are loud and obnoxious and uncaring and I hope that you provide my sister with something helpful, because it seems like all you can do is make someone give you a laugh out of pity."

Cassian stared, slack jawed. "You know nothing."

"I know enough. You are-"

"Do not," said a careful, dark voice from behind her, "belittle my own."

Nesta didn't have to turn to know it was Feyre. She stepped beside Cassian, dress swirling almost whimsically. "You don't know anything about my family and you have no right to spit venom at them just because you don't have a family of your own. I offered you this, they were all willing to respect you, to grow with you. But I will not have you degrading them when you know so little. You are my sister, yes, but they are family."

Nesta would have flinched but she was too frozen. "Feyre-" she croaked.

"Does it ever get exhausting, Nesta, constantly holding those walls up?"

Cassian was looking hard at some spot on the wall behind him. Vaguely, Nesta was aware of other people coming out the doors. Of Rhysand taking Cassian's other side. Of Elain quietly looking at her feet. Of Azriel swearing beneath his breath.

But when Cassian finally looked at Nesta, she couldn't help the shame inside her. She slipped away, despite Elain's protests, and left.


	5. Chapter 5

Nesta didn't leave her room for the rest of the day. She'd cried for a good portion of her hours alone, ignoring when Elain knocked on her door or called her phone. She had always hated herself-wished she were kinder or softer like her sisters-but today was the day that the weight of her armor finally crushed her.

She was frozen and numb on the floor in front of her bed, all her fire gone in the steam. She'd been this way for minutes, hours, she wasn't sure, occasionally lifting her drink to her lips. Lost in her own head.

She barely heard the door open, barely remember that she had given Elain a key. She couldn't bother to tell her sister to go away.

"Well this is a sorry sight." But that wasn't her sister's voice.

Nesta lifted her drink, searching for the straw desperately with her tongue.

Cassian strolled inside, hands in his pockets. "Elain gave me her key because she thought I was the only one brave enough to handle you."

"Get out." The words were barely a whisper, accented by the slurp that told her her drink needed refilling.

He didn't. She was dimly aware of his hulking presence in front of her, his knees just in line of her sight. "Not gonna happen, sweetheart."

She rolled her head back to look at him, trying to pull her face into a glare. She wasn't quite drunk yet, but sitting so long in her own mind made her feel like it.

Cassian reached down, and, before she could stop him, plucked the glass from her fingers. He sniffed it and frowned. "Cheap whiskey? If you're gonna hate yourself at least do it in style."

When she still didn't say anything, he crouched in front of her. "I'll make you a deal-you go take a shower, make yourself look presentable, and I'll take you to the best bar in town. All drinks on me."

She kept her head hung, vision wavering slightly with the blur of tears.

"Look at me." When she didn't, he grabbed her chin gently, then more roughly when she tried to tear her face away. His eyes burned like embers. "You do not have to apologize for what you said. You just have to get off your ass and stop feeling sorry for yourself. That's what your sister fears most-that you are alone and beyond help. So," He pulled her up with a single hand so they were standing toe to toe. "Let me help you."

X-X-X-X-X-X-X

The moment Nesta was on her feet, Cassian was digging through her suitcase, scattering clothes across the bed. "What are you doing?"

"Finding you something to wear. Sweet mother, do you not own any pants?"

Nesta growled. "I don't like you digging through my clothes."

"Ah ha!" He pulled out her only pair of brown leggings and held them up triumphantly. "You should get in the shower," he said as her rifled through, "I wanna be out of here quickly. It smells like whiskey."

Nesta scowled, but marched off to the shower, making sure he heard it when she slammed the door.

When she got back, however, she felt lighter. She dried her hair as best she could with the towel then pulled it into a half-assed bun with one hair tie. She wrapped the towel around her naked body, stepping into the cool center room.

Cassian was lying on her bed, thumbing through one of her romance novels. Her eyes widened and she skittered up to yank it out of his hands, finding the page he was on not far from a scene she could do without him reading.

He smirked, tracking his gaze up and down. "You know, we can make bad decisions here. We don't need a bar or alcohol for that."

She flipped him off, but, with both her hands occupied, the towel-dress slid down a few centimeters.

His eyes simmered.

"Get over yourself," she snapped, hiking it back up and turning to where he'd set a pile of clothes.

But Cassian sat up, and, before she could stop him, grabbed the tie in her hair, pulling it loose from its bun.

Nesta gasped, whirling around. Cassian was gaping at her, then his face pulled into a huge grin. "In all of the pictures I've seen, you've never had your hair down." He tugged her forward by her waist, the book thumping back onto the bed and her towel sliding back down almost to indecency. She was too shocked to stop him as he leaned closer, pressing his lips right below her ear, the smell of her conditioner wafting around them.

Nesta's heart hammered. This wasn't like her. She should have stopped him by now. But it had been so long since she'd felt anything like this-the warmth of a lover, the comfort of their arms and lips.

Cassian's own arms slid around her waist, pulling her close as his mouth moved down across her skin. She was frozen by how right it felt, how easily it would have been to slide into his lap and have him spend the night. They would burn each other up until nothing remained. He would melt her steel and she would remove his armor.

It was a pipe-dream, a fantasy that could never be fulfilled.

Nesta jerked back when he reached the swell of her left breast, his tongue dangerous on her hot skin. She yanked herself from his arms, breathing roughly. Cassian, for once, didn't have a smile on his face as he said gruffly, "Get dressed."

He didn't need to tell her twice.

She grabbed the bundle of clothes, retreating back into the bathroom. She made sure to lock the door.

He'd picked out-besides the leggings-a thick white sweater that always seemed to smell of lavender, and her favorite bra and panty pair. She didn't like the thought of him touching her underclothes, but they were just clothes. And he was just another man.

It had been a while since she'd worn pants, having grown comfortable with the sway of her skirts around her ankles. The leggings she had planned to wear to one of the infamous gyms here if she got the time, but it didn't look like that was going to happen.

Cassian had the book again when she emerged and was reading aloud in an obnoxious voice, "'She wrapped her legs around his waist, letting him carry her not to the bed, but to the wall, and the sensation of the cool wood against her back, compared to the heat and hardness of him pushing into her front-'"

Nesta tried to grab the book but he tilted sideways, continuing to read as she landed atop him. "Give it back!" she shouted, anger rising towards her in a dizzying speed.

"Tell me, Nesta," he said with a laugh as she straddled him, desperately reaching for the book he held away, "if I bite your neck will you let me take you against a wall?"

Nesta finally managed to grab the book, stretching out over him. He kept his hold though, and there was a heated moment where she got an eyeful of the tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves, her breasts practically pressed against his face.

She struggled to get the book from his hands, peeling his fingers off one by one. When she finally got it free, she sat back up, wrapping her arms protectively around it. Cassian's cheeks were flushed, one hand still stretched above his head, the other resting on her hip. She wasn't quite sure when it had gotten there.

"Let's go out to dinner instead," he said suddenly.

"What?"

"Let me take you out to dinner."

She was abruptly aware of the position they were in-her straddling his hips, him stretched out beneath her, his lips slightly parted. She could feel his hard packed stomach beneath her and again saw those whirls of tattoos peeking from his collar.

Nesta had never really been on a legitimate date. She'd been to the movies with a gropy boy when she was thirteen, then a triple date with Thomas and some friends.

Cassian's thumbs brushed her waist, awaiting an answer, and she snapped back to herself. When she made to get off him, he held her stubbornly in place, sitting up so they were nearly nose to nose.

Nesta felt her defenses begin to crumble like the ruins of an ancient building. She tried to pull them back up, but, by the mother, she was so exhausted. Her very bones were heavy. "I… I… ,"

Cassian sighed. "Doesn't all that armor get heavy, Nesta? What would it hurt to let someone in?"

"You hardly know me. We met yesterday."

"Feyre told me stories about you."

Nesta narrowed her eyes. "Those are just stories."

He moved his hand from her waist to her face, sweeping back the hair she still hadn't brushed. "I know that you are all steel and all fire with everyone except Elain. I know that your favorite color is red and your favorite flower is peonies. I know that you're lonely, despite what you say. I can see it and believe me, I know what loneliness looks like."

"I don't want a boyfriend."

"But you want a lover. You want something from the books."

Goosebumps ran up her arms as she held her book a little tighter, as if she could wield it as a shield against him. "Why would someone like you want me? I'm mean, I'm cold, I'm a bitch."

"You fascinate me," he said. "You're strong where many are meek. You won't take my shit where many do because of my size and title. And I don't know very many people who can wield words like you do-like weapons."

"I'm ugly-"

"You are not ugly."

"I'm mean."

"I'm gonna tell you a secret, Nesta." He leaned forward so his mouth was beside her ear. "I'm mean too."

Nesta shivered. She liked when he said her name like that.

"Feyre was right," he said, taking her hand. "We would look good together. So humor me, go on a date. Just one and you get to decide whether or not we have a second."

Nesta bit her lip, for once feeling small and weak for once, despite what he said. "Can I do my hair?"

His hands tightened on her waist, grin returning in full force. "No."

"But-"

"No. I like it down." He wrapped a strand around his finger. "You're beautiful."

"Where are we going?"

"I don't know. Somewhere fancy."

"I should wear a dress then."

He shook his head. "You really shouldn't." He ran his hands up her thighs, making her jump and grab at his wrists.

"Don't touch me like that."

His hands returned to her hips without protest. "Are you ready to go?"

"No, I need my shoes." She slid off of him, trying to collect herself.

Cassian grabbed her hand. "No more walls. Not tonight."

She studied him for an infinite second-the features any woman would kill for and any man would kill to posses; the rough stubble that coated his jaw and cheeks; eyes that could swallow her whole and shoulder-length hair that she wondered what it would be like to run her hands through.

"Okay," she said. "I'll try."


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello, this is Author. Sorry I haven't really updated any story in a while, it's tech and build week for me at the place I work so I haven't really had the time for anything beyond theatre. Does anybody really read this story anyway? I feel like I did something majorly wrong and now the fandom has it out for me, but that might just be paranoia talking. Anyway, I hope those of you who are reading this enjoy it. :) (I do take story requests if you guys have anything you want me to write, please don't be afraid to ask)**

When Nesta reached for her brush, Cassian stepped in front of her. "Leave it down," he pleaded.

"I'm just brushing it, you oaf."

His lips formed a stern line as if he didn't quite believe her. "Let me."

"Excuse me?"

"Let me brush your hair."

"What experience do you have with-" But she stopped herself as she considered his own locks, too clean to be uncared for. "Fine."

She sat down at the small hotel vanity, sweeping her hair back for him. He stood behind her, the small brush engulfed by his big hand. Gently, he began to work it through her hair. Her curls yielded to his care slowly, stretching and bouncing as he brushed first the bottom, then higher, his knuckles occasionally skimming her bare neck.

She didn't know if it was on purpose.

When he finished, he combed his fingers through too, sending shivers down her spine. FInally, he set down the brush, taking her hand to help her from the chair. She grabbed her purse as they made their way down to the lobby. His hand had yet to leave hers.

It was only when they made it to the parking lots that he let go. Only because Nesta crossed her arms over her chest. "You have got to be kidding me."

He grinned, passing her a helmet before he swung himself onto the motorcycle. "You still wanna wear a dress?"

She frowned at the helmet in her hands. "I've never ridden one of these."

"It's not the only thing you'll ride while with me." He winked.

She could have hit him.

But he took the helmet from her hands, dismounting the bike. Then he set the helmet carefully on her head, clipping it under her chin. "Turns are scary at first. When I lean, you lean. Okay?"

She nodded, gulping as he tightened the strap. When he got on again, she did so too, not nearly as gracefully though.

"Hands around my waist," he said and she obeyed, again feeling the hard muscle. Her thighs cradled his hips, chest to his back.

He revved the engine once and then they were off. Nesta held in her gasp, wrapping her arms tighter around him. She could have sworn he chuckled.

Wind battered mercilessly at her face, enough so that she buried it shamelessly in Cassian's back. She peeked out enough to see the lights of the city whirring passed, brilliant golds and reds and blues.

They rode to what Nesta thought might have been the most expensive restaurant in the city. The moment Cassian stopped the bike, Nesta began to object, "This is way too expensive."

"I'm paying."

"I'm not dressed."

"And yet you'll be the most beautiful person in there."

"Cassian-"

"Nesta," he sang as he turned slightly, taking off his helmet.

He slung himself off the bike then helped her off too. She removed her own helmet, shaking out her hair. Cassian offered her an arm to lead them inside.

The restaurant was a shower of golden chandeliers, lapis-veined walls, and well dressed people. Cassian murmured something to the host that had him leading them up a set of stairs to an empty balcony.

Nesta went to the rail, staring out at the city stretched below. Lights sprinkled across the hills and towers, rivers running peacefully between them. Wind stirred her hair and suddenly Cassian was there, not touching her but somehow still connected.

"This is my favorite view of the city," he said, dragging his long finger across the rail.

"You live here?" She'd thought he was staying in the same hotel, but he may have just been visiting someone.

He shook his head. "Not anymore. I grew up here, though." He tilted his head to the table. "Let's eat."

Nesta sat at the chair he pulled out for her, folding the silk napkin in her lap. A menu was handed to her by the waitress. It took Nesta moment to realize she knew her.

"Thank you, Mor," said Cassian.

Mor smiled and it was insufferable. "Don't have too much fun, babe." She sauntered off, hips swaying.

"'Babe'?" Nesta asked, raising a brow.

"Yes?" he joked, but at her lack of laughter, sighed in defeat. "It's a long standing joke."

"Tell me." She leaned forward, resting her elbow on the table.

"Can we order first?" He raised his menu, humming as he looked it over.

Nesta rolled her eyes but indeed read the courses. She debated choosing the most expensive meal or the cheapest. She settled on the steak-second most expensive.

And, after Mor took their orders and left, Nesta pressed Cassian again. "Well?"

"Mor and I had a falling out of few years back-it kinda left a dent in the family."

Nesta's brows furrowed. "But you're… related?"

"Az and I were sort of adopted by Rhys's family, but it was never official. We were both bastards, put into orphanages Rhys's mother happened to frequent. I only met Mor years later. She had been getting threats from a man from a rival family about taking her virginity and how he loved pure girls."

Nesta shuddered.

Cassian went on quieter, picking at the table cloth, "So she came to me one night when no one else was home and… one thing led to another. I regretted it from the very moment she stripped but it was what she wanted. And… I think Az wanted her to ask him instead-he's never really been the same since. We all know he likes-or liked-her, he'll just never admit it."

"Your food," said Mor sharply, setting down their plates with a clang. She ran a predatory hand over Cassian's hair, making sure Nesta saw when she yanked his head back, leaning down to whisper something in his ear. Then she kissed his cheek and left.

Cassian was staring at the table, his fork clenched a hand. Nesta saw it bend slightly under his fingers.

"What did she say?" Nesta couldn't help but ask.

He shook his head. "Nothing. How's the food?"

She hadn't taken a bite yet, worried Mor might have spit in it.

"She didn't poison it or anything," Cassian reassured her, cutting his lamb. "He doesn't like that story but she wouldn't take it out on you. She's more likely to spit in my food than yours."

Nesta pursed her lips but indeed cut her steak into bite sized pieces. She groaned when she took the first bite.

Cassian flashed a grin. "I have other ways to get you moaning, sweetheart."

She glared at him as she took another bite. She'd never had a steak taste so good.

Before she knew it, she was moving on to her equally as tasty roast potatoes. She looked up to find Cassian still watching her. "What?"

"What do you think of your sister's marriage?" he asked, though she silently doubted that was what he was thinking.

Nesta shrugged. "So long as he makes her happy."

He ran his tongue over his teeth. "I think they're soul mates."

She almost spit out her potato. "Soul mates don't exist."

"Why not?"

"Because the world isn't that fair."

"Maybe the unfair part is that most people never meet theirs. The question is-" He put his elbows on the table, leaning conspiratorially towards Nesta. "-have you found yours?"

"I don't believe in them so it doesn't matter."

"I think it does."

She snorted. "I don't care what you think."

He traced the line her glass made on the table as she lifted it to her lips. "Tell me about yourself. Something I don't know."

"I like books."

"I knew that."

"You seem to know everything-my favorite color, favorite flower. Those weren't in Feyre's stories."

His heated gaze met hers. "I didn't hesitate to ask questions."

Nesta finished her potatoes, ignoring the way he kept looking at her.

"I want to show you something," he said at last, taking her hand. He stood, dragging her up with him.

"What-what about the check?" she stuttered.

"It's already covered. Don't worry." He guided them down the stairs quickly and out to the bike. Nesta put on her helmet, shooting Cassian confused glances.

But when they started off again, they weren't heading to the hotel.

This ride was longer but Cassian went faster. The city zoomed passed and then they were out in the country, with rolling hills and empty roads.

Sketchy, Nesta thought. Very sketchy. He could be taking her out to murder or torture her and there was little she could do.

She loosened her grip on him, heart beating as the realization sank in. He had wanted to get out of the restaurant fast, hadn't paid. And she barely knew anything about him beyond his arrogance and his relation to her sister. He'd shown interest, asked questions. She could distinctly imagine the gleam of his ember eyes, the way his voice was eerily smooth. The way she had let her armor down.

She was shaking by the time they pulled up to a large barn, the night dark around them. When Cassian got off, she dismounted on the other side so the motorcycle was between them.

Cassian's brows lowered. "Is something wrong?"

"I… ." She didn't know what to say.

He looked around, then must have realized what she was so paranoid about. "Oh! You think I'm here to kill you. No, I actually like you, Nesta. I promise not to kill you."

Nesta took a breath. Then another. "Where are we?"

"It's a hideout of a sort that my family owns to get away from each other."

She nodded, edging slowly around the bike. Once she was beside him, Cassian took her hand as they walked to the door and slowly, but surely, all her fears faded.

Inside, string lights across the roof came up, casting the clean and furnished barn in a a golden glow. "Plumbing, carpets, air conditioning, and heating. You can't get much better than this in a literal barn."

Nesta had to agree. In one corner, there was a small but fashionable kitchen, across from that a neat sitting area, complete with television and sofa. In the other corner was an office with more desk space than a person knew how to use. It was, however, the last corner that caught her attention.

There was a giant, fluffy bed, covered in a grey comforter. Nesta was sure if she laid on it she'd be swallowed.

"I love it here," Cassian breathed, closing his eyes.

Nesta let go of his hand, going to the desk. She read the titles on the shelves, brows furrowing. "'Strategic Warfare'?" she asked.

"What did you think I do for a living?"

"You're a… ," she trailed off, running her fingers over the spines.

"General. It used to sound cooler."

"But you're so young." She said it before she could stop herself.

That insufferable grin returned. "I'll take that as a compliment." He moved to the kitchen, digging around in the cupboards. "Wine?" he asked and Nesta rushed over.

"Of course."

He poured both of them a glass.

It was the finest wine she'd ever tasted.

Cupping the glass carefully, she made her way to the couch, curling up on it as she sank into the cushions, purring slightly. Cassian stood in the centre of the rug, smirking. "So wine is your weakness, then?"

She only took another sip, peering at him with wide eyes.

"Tell me about your first boyfriend," he said suddenly.

"What?"

"Tell me about your first boyfriend." He came to sit beside her, sipping his own wine.

Nesta's heart hammered. "Why?"

"It's a conversation starter." He edged closer, making the cushions sink her to him.

She sighed, and maybe it was the wine, but she said, "His name was Tomas."

Cassian cocked his head. "You don't sound thrilled."

"He wasn't… the best of men. I thought I was going to marry him and then he… he… ." She wasn't able to finish the sentence, eyes distant as her walls locked up, one after the other.

Cassina seemed to notice and grabbed her hand. "Nesta."

She shook his hands from hers as she stood, backing away. "Why am I telling you this? Just leave me alone." She took the wine bottle from where he'd set it on the floor, raising it to her lips.

He moved lightning fast, yanking the bottle away. "Don't shut me out."

She reached for the wine, trying to take it back. But he grabbed her wrist, and, instead of pushing her away, pulled her closer. Her eyes widened as she fell into his lap. "Let go of me!" she hissed, trying to worm away and get the wine at the same time.

"Nesta-"She cut him off when she knocked his jaw with her elbow, finally seizing the neck of the bottle. He growled low in his throat, and, with moves quicker than Nesta could follow, she was suddenly below him on the couch, the wine on the floor, him hovering above her with her arms pinned over her head.

Nesta watched the wine bottle tip back and forth, slower with each pass, before it rightened itself.

Her eyes snapped to Cassian and she struggled, breath coming in flat pants.

"Relax, Nesta," he soothed and she went wild.

"Get-" she gasped, trying to kick her legs. "Get off!" Her voice was shrill, panicked.

Cassian withdrew instantly, his weight off her in a split second. Nesta rolled until she was off the couch, crawling away. She tucked her knees to her chest, pressing her face to them so he wouldn't see the tears.

"I'm sorry," said Cassian from somewhere distantly. A hand fell on her shoulder and she flinched.

But then she was being lifted into great arms. She flailed for a moment, but, as his warmth sank into her, she stopped her struggle. It wasn't worth it anyway. He was three times her size with a title and more training than she probably thought.

She went limp in his arms.

 _Relax, Nesta._

It was what Tomas had said to her the night he'd forced her into bed with him. And even if Cassian's warmth calmed her, comforted her, he would be no different.

Cassian shifted her to one arm as he peeled back the comforter, setting her with striking gentleness on the bed. Nesta shut her eyes, waiting for him to start to strip her down, to climb over her, to grope her.

But he only replace the blanket, tucking it into her sides. "I don't want you to be afraid of me, Nes."

She curled in on herself, tears leaking from behind her lids.

His callouses scraped against her cheek as he brushed her hair behind her ear. "I'll be on the couch if you need me. Get some rest."

The bed was more comfortable than it should have been and she fell asleep not long after he turned the lights off, but she shivered through the night.


	7. Chapter 7

It was around three A.M. when she awoke. There was no reason, no sound or light to show why. The temperature had dropped even more, cold seeping in and wrapping around her like a restless lover.

Nesta opened her eyes slowly to the dark room, the night animals shifting quietly outside. It was only then that she realized she was being watched.

Cassian sat on the floor at the foot of the bed, his arms folded over the mattress as he stared at her with a predator's intent. A shiver ran up her spine.

"Sorry," he whispered, "you were talking in your sleep and I… ."

Nesta held out her hand, waiting for him to take it.

He stood frozen.

She wiggled her fingers. "Will you lay with me?"

Cautiously, he took her hand, his fingers trembling slightly. "Why?"

"You make me warm."

Through the dark, she saw a slight tint in his cheeks. "You're tired. You're not thinking straight."

"Please," she begged, because she was so tired and so cold.

She pulled hard on his hand to show her that she was indeed awake. Cassian bit his lip as he crawled over her, settling at on his back beside her. He was staring at the ceiling.

Still with her hand in his, twisted around her waist, she tugged him closer until he lay on his side, his body stiff against hers. She ran her hand up his forearm, feeling the corded muscle there, and closed her eyes. He relaxed into her frame, sliding closer until they were lined up against each other.

Nesta blew out a breath and the cold was swept away. She fell asleep to the feeling of Cassian's hand in hers.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

The sun was up but the barn was still dark. Cassian tried to keep his breathing even so not to wake the sleeping beauty in his arms. She had shifted so she was half-way on top of him, her head on his chest. Her hair was fanned out across his neck, the silken strands tickling and teasing his skin. She'd wrapped her arm around his waist, gripping him hard, and her legs tangled in his. Her shirt had ridden up a few inches, showing off the bit of pale skin where his hand rested.

She smacked her lips, dislodging the trail of drool that had begun. She shifted, running her nose across his bare chest. He went stiff.

Cassian sucked in a sharp breath when she opened her eyes. Eyes that he would have fought a million wars for. And her generous breasts-that he currently eyed as they swelled out of her sweater-of course, but that wasn't as important.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he whispered.

She closed her eyes again, a slight smile curving on her lips.

His breath left him completely.

She murmured, "So warm."

He angled his head so he could kiss her hair, breathing in her scent of book pressed flowers. "We should get up."

She mumbled something, burying her face further into his chest. His heart thundered wildly. Then her eyes opened again, lashes brushing his skin, and she blinked. Twice.

She sat up suddenly, gasping. "Your shirt."

He grinned. "I had it off when you told me to lay here."

"I didn't realize… ." She shook her head, crawling off of him. He was instantly met with a lack of warmth.

Taking the blanket with her, she hobbled off to the kitchen. Cassian sat up, watching her as she searched the cupboards for coffee grounds. It wasn't fair that someone be so beautiful, so intelligent, and so out of reach.

He slid, lazy as a cat, out of bed, flicking on the lights. He came up behind Nesta and, without preamble, scooped her, blanket and all, over his shoulder.

She shrieked in surprise. "What are you doing?" He felt her hand slap against his lower back.

"We're supposed to talk before you get out of bed so you're going back in bed."

"Why are we supposed to talk?"

"Because that's what they do in all the books." He set her down gently on the bed-shoved down the image of throwing her down and not letting her leave till she was moaning his name and quivering with pleasure.

Instead, he lay down beside her, propping his head on his hand. For possibly the first time, he saw her cheeks grow pink. He reached out and brushed his thumb along her cheekbone, closing his eyes at the feeling of her soft skin.

"I'm supposed to fly home today," she said softly.

He took her hand, kissing the tip of each of her fingers. "Stay."

Her delicate brows lowered. "I can't do that. I have school. I graduate with my masters this year."

"For business management?"

"I'm still disturbed at how much you asked Feyre."

He smiled. "You're fascinating." But he looked at the sheet between them and his smile fell. "I don't want to say goodbye to you." It was true-the more he learned about her, the more his chest clenched at the thought of her leaving.

Her lips twitched and his eyes snapped up. "You're laughing at me."

"I've never really had anyone miss me. It's new." She took her hand from his, folding both of hers in front of her.

"I have a spare bedroom up in Seattle. You could stay with me." He was pleading-begging, really-and he hated himself for it. They hadn't even kissed yet.

She raised a single, slow brow. "You're asking me to move in with you? On our first date?"

"You spent the night with me. I would have driven you back to the hotel if you'd asked."

"I know, but I was tired."

"You haven't asked to leave yet."

"The bed is comfortable."

"With me in it?"

She frowned. "You want me to stroke your ego."

"I want you to stroke other things, but we can start with my ego."

"Cassian."

"Nesta." He sang her name like a hymn. "At least let me kiss you before you go."

"What?"

He moved so her was hovering above her, her flushed chest rising and falling quickly against his. "I want to kiss you."

He could see it then, in her eyes, as if it were a physical thing, the slow lowering of barriers. He scrambled to fix his mistake. "Wait-wait. We can wait. We don't have to do anything you don't want to."

She looked down at his chin, avoiding his gaze. "I want a… relationship with you. But I'm not used to needing someone. I don't know if I can need someone."

Delicately, he lifted her chin with a single finger. "You don't have to need anyone beside yourself, that's not how love works. Maybe with time, we'll need each other. But wanting-wanting is just as precious. Wanting gives you room to move away and yet you stay. That is what is most important-staying."

He could see the wheels in her head turning. See it when she looked away like she didn't believe him.

He sighed, rolling away. Rubbing his face, he said, "I'll give you a ride to the airport."

Nesta twisted her hands in the sheet. "Thank you, Cassian."


	8. Chapter 8

Four months later:

Nesta packed the last of her bags, loading it into her car. She turned back though, climbing the stairs for the last time and unlocking the door to her dorm. It was emptied entirely, her roommate having left yesterday. The next round of college students were supposed to be here in a week but Nesta wanted to be out as soon as possible.

Her cat that she and her roommate had hidden from the dean for years meowed as she came from the kitchen, looking for her food bowl. Nesta knelt, scratching behind her ear. The carrier was on the counter but Muffin clearly didn't want to leave yet.

There was a knock on the door, making her look up in confusion. Muffin squacked at it, prancing up and rubbing against the door. Nesta's hand hesitated on the handle before she opened it, picking up Muffin to keep her from escaping.

Cassian stood there, as wide eyed as she was.

"What are you doing here?" Nesta blurted. Muffin meowed her response. She was a very vocal cat.

"I-Feyre gave me your address. She said you were probably already gone."

"You live in Seattle." That was at least a days drive away.

"I wanted to see you." He pulled a bouquet of peonies from behind his back, rubbing his neck. "I, uh, brought these."

"I don't have anywhere to put them."

"Oh." He looked nervous, which was new for Nesta to see on him, though she hadn't known him for long. "Can I come in?"

She nodded, opening the door wider. Muffin squirmed in her arms until she set her down to greet Cassian. She meowed at him, rubbing against his boots.

"Um, congrats on your degree." He set the flowers on the counter, kneeling to let Muffin rub against his hand instead. "Do you have a place yet?"

"Why are you here, Cassian?"

He straightened, tapping his fingers against his thigh. Sighing, he said, "I knew you'd be leaving and I wasn't sure I'd be able to find you once you were gone."

"You can't just show up at someone's door after months of no contact."

He ran his hands over his face. "I know and I hate myself and you should probably just kick me out."

Nesta watched him with narrowed eyes. Muffin sat delightedly on his boots, purring loudly. Nesta stared at the cat. Usually, she hated the men Nesta brought home, but she seemed rather fond of Cassian.

Maybe it was stupid, but Nesta decided to trust Muffin.

"Thank you for the flowers," she said.

He smiled, but it wasn't the grin she was used to. "So where are you going after this?"

"I have a friend to stay with in Arizona until I get my own place. I'm hoping to get a job down there."

"You don't have a job set up yet?"

She had taken three jobs at one point to work of her student debt, but even that hadn't covered it. Though she knew that wasn't what he was asking about. "I've had offers all around the U.S. I'm still not sure what I where I want to go yet."

"What about Seattle?" he said hopefully, leaning against the counter. He wasn't looking at her, but instead focused on the pink and white peonies.

Nesta's heart contracted but she wouldn't let it show. "Cassian."

"I know it's far and we haven't known each other for a while, but there's a guest bedroom and I won't make you pay rent or anything. It's all there if you want it."

And she did, damn her heart. She wanted to take this leap into the unknown, to see what life was like with him, waiting for her in Seattle.

"I couldn't do that to you."

"I'm offering, Nesta. I want… I want you. I've wanted you since that first day in the street. But I'll leave if you want me to."

And Nesta knew he would. He would leave and never turn back and fall in love with some other damsel and completely never see her again. She wasn't sure she could live with that.

So she took a leap. "Okay. I'll go."

He looked up in surprise, gaping at her. "Really?"

"But if I want to leave, you have to pay for my plane ticket to where I want to go."

"Of course." He nodded, stepping towards her. "I assume you don't need help packing, though."

Nesta looked one last time at her empty apartment. "No. Let's go." He turned to leave and she couldn't help herself. "Oh, and Cassian?"

He turned back. "Yes?"

She leaned up on her toes and kissed his lips.

When she pulled back he was grinning and it looked like the start of something beautiful.

 **The End.**


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